by Jade Allen
“Who are they, Seth? Who are they to do this to us? To you? To Aiza?”
“They’re a gang of low-lives, thieves and leeches. They don’t make anything, they only subsist on what they can take. They’re not smart, but they’re strong and they’re mean, and there’s enough of them to get what they want, most of the time.”
“What do they want from you?” Sera just wanted to understand. “Is it land? Money? Do they just like to see you hurt?”
“I’d wager it’s all three. They’d get our territory and everything we leave behind.”
“Somebody has to stop them.”
“That’s what Noah and a lot of other good men and women are working on right now. You don’t need to put yourself in harm’s way.”
“I love you.”
“Sera—”
“I’ll see you soon.”
“Sera, listen—” Even though it sent a shard of pain through her chest, she ended the call and handed the phone back to Stephanie. “Is there some place safe we can go and make a plan?”
“I’ve got a place.” Her attention jumped over to Aiza. “Somewhere Noah won’t come looking.”
“Let’s go.” Sera had never felt so resolute, so confident, in her life. But she’d never felt this sort of power thrumming through her veins.
And she’d never had a better reason to fight.
****
Adam blinked into the darkness, trying to make out any shadow or clue of where he was and how he ended up there. The last thing he remembered was stepping outside of the bar. It had been a little after midnight, and the lot was still full, the sound of music and drinking drifting from the door behind him. He hadn’t heard anything else. He didn’t have any memory of seeing anybody or even of the blow that knocked him out. The lump to the side of his temple was as big as a goose egg and throbbing like hell.
The floor beneath him was carpeted, and there might have been a window to his right, but it looked like it was covered in blackout paper. There was no light from the outside and no way to tell what time it was. He closed his eyes and extended his senses, bringing the wolf to the surface. He caught the scent of another wolf, and his lip automatically curled, exposing his sharp canines.
He recognized her scent easily. It still lingered in the bar, and most annoyingly, in his office. When he’d learned that Aiza was still alive, he’d been annoyed at Dwight’s incompetence, but he thought the situation had been handled. Isn’t that exactly what he sent Braxton to do? He resolved to kill that pup at the first opportunity—that level of incompetence couldn’t be allowed to exist within the Brotherhood.
Adam summoned the rest of his power, prepared to shift into his wolf form and find the woman responsible for his inconvenience, but he found he was unable to change. When he tried again, the shackle on his wrist began to burn.
“Silver chains. That goddamned bitch.”
So shifting was out of the question. With nothing else to occupy him, he leaned back against the wall and imagined what he would do to Aiza once he was done skinning Braxton’s pelt. It was a shame things worked out the way they did because he always thought she looked pretty good for someone her age. Dwight had been an incompetent idiot most of his life, but he did know how to pick them. Most wolves fought for their territory and wealth, but that had never been Dwight’s style. Unfortunately, Dwight’s style tended to leave messes behind and Adam always found himself embroiled with the cleanup.
“Ai-za! I know you’re here, honey.” He paused, waiting for any response. “Is this about your shitty bar? I did you a favor by taking over that rat hole. It’s hemorrhaging money!”
No response. He wasn’t especially surprised. She clearly had a plan if she had the foresight to obtain and use silver chains. He gave the chains a good rattle before shouting Aiza’s name again. “Look, I’m awake! Let’s talk.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
The hair on the back of Adam’s neck stood on end. That was not Aiza’s voice. His nostrils flared and he realized that he’d missed something before. Or maybe he hadn’t missed it. Maybe they’d masked her scent somehow. But there was no mistaking the fact that he was speaking to a Longtail.
“Where am I?”
“Someplace safe.”
“What do you want?”
“Just want some information, Adam. I don’t want to hurt you. Unless you need help remembering the details. Or if I don’t like what I hear.”
“Information about what?” Adam asked, his tone neutral.
Braxton had got a message out from the detention center—at least the pup was smart enough not to call him directly—indicating there had been a bloody skirmish with the Longtail pack. Did they know it was on his orders? They must have. Why else would he be there? But which one of those idiots had talked? And what had they said?
“Where’s the baby?”
“The what?”
Pain erupted in his head as the words left his mouth, and he realized somebody was standing behind him. Somebody who had absolutely no qualms about knocking his head in. He blinked, trying to get his eyes to focus in the dark.
“Try again.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Another blow, this one hard enough to make his teeth sink into his tongue. He spat the blood out and tried to peer around to his left, but the room was too dark and he couldn’t make out anything more than a vague shape.
“Give me his phone.” A moment later, the screen illuminated enough of his captor’s face for him to recognize the resemblance. Definitely a Longtail. “See, I don’t believe you because you got this message. ‘Package picked up. Delivered to safe local. Will wait.’ So, where’s the package?”
“That’s just booze.”
“So the package is at the bar?”
It might have been the rapid blows to the head—another one followed close behind the question—that led him to give an honest answer. Or maybe he was just confused by his own lie. But he blurted out, “Yes, yes it’s there. Please, stop.”
But his captor didn’t stop and his jaw cracked from the force of her fist smashing into the side of his face. The world turned into a murky ocean, swimming around him in thick waves. He made out one voice saying, “I think we should go to the bar.”
“I don’t like the thought of leaving him alone here.”
“He won’t be alone for long. The cleaning crew will be here to take care of him.”
Another hard blow and the world turned red and then black.
****
Cyn didn’t know anything about taking care of babies. She was definitely the least qualified person she knew to be responsible for any child, but especially one as small and delicate as the boy in her arms. Apparently, she was supposed to know what to do just because she was a female, like it was just built-in knowledge. Like she could just pick up a newborn baby and know why it was crying, what it needed, and how to provide it.
“Shut that goddamned kid up!” One of the bikers bellowed. She couldn’t keep track of their names and had long ago given up on ever remembering who was who. It didn’t really matter anyway. All they ever did was yell, throw things at her and yell at her some more. She really didn’t need to know their names. Now they were yelling at her because the goddamned newborn baby wouldn’t stop crying.
“Please stop crying, baby. Please stop. Come on.” She held him and rocked him, but that did nothing to stop the noise. He probably needed food, but she sure wasn’t going to produce anything for him. Could babies drink cow milk? It was milk, after all. Did it need to be warmed up? It seemed like she shouldn’t be feeding the baby cold cow milk, but wasn’t something better than nothing? Especially if it would buy a few minutes of peace and quiet?
There was no milk in the bar. All they had was heavy cream. That seemed like an even worse idea than regular milk, but she had to do something.
“If that little bastard doesn’t shut up, I’m gonna—”
“You shut up, Merv. You�
��re worse than the baby.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Both of you shut the fuck up. Where’s Adam? He should be back by now.”
“How the fuck should I know? It’s not like he checks in with me.”
It occurred to Cyn that she should simply slip out the back and flee with the baby, but these were wolves. Ruthless wolves who cared nothing about Cyn’s life and even less about the baby. They would use their powerful sense of smell to track her down and kill them both. Cyn was not ready to die. She was ready to get the fuck out of that bar and never serve drinks or see a baby again, but she was not ready to die.
She took the baby to the back of the bar, in the little nook that served as their kitchen when they used to serve food. When they used to have customers. Now there wasn’t a single paying regular—just all these Brotherhood goons with their bad manners and ill-tempered profanities. Since they didn’t pay, they didn’t tip, but that didn’t stop them from ordering her around all night. Soon after Aiza disappeared, she tried to leave. She tried to leave again when Aiza reappeared. Both times, Adam had shown up at her house and insisted for her to return to work.
He had a most persuasive argument: a Saturday night special with the tip sawed off. So Cyn had returned to work, and every few weeks, he’d hand her a few bills in a wrinkled envelope and she accepted it with a smile that said well, at least I’m not dead yet.
The sudden appearance of a random baby put a small crinkle in her plan of not dying. Not only did the baby distract her from fetching their beer, peanuts and pretzels, but she couldn’t get it to stop its endless crying. What if they did decide to hurt the kid?
Cyn shuddered, horrified by the line of thought she was actually following. The one they’d forced her to embark on.
She mixed the cream she found with water and warmed it over the stove top, while she cradled the baby in one arm and made cooing sounds. Her cooing didn’t help, and probably only exacerbated the situation. She wished she could cry right along with the kid, but she didn’t dare make a noise they might overhear.
She hadn’t asked where the kid came from and she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know. It was clear, though, that however they’d obtained the child, it wasn’t via a careful plan with that outcome as the articulated goal. Even Adam seemed nonplussed. Cyn wished she could grab him and shake him and shout, what the fuck are you doing? This kid has parents! There will be cops! But she didn’t dare even say peep in his direction. All she could do was keep her head down and hope she didn’t get caught in the inevitable crossfire.
When the top of the watery cream broke with a bubble, she removed it from the heat and stared at it doubtfully. She didn’t have a bottle—unless she could use a beer bottle or a tequila bottle once she drained it of its contents, but she didn’t think either would work. The baby needed a nipple and there definitely wasn’t a working one of those in the bar.
“Fuck, kid. What am I supposed to do?”
The baby squalled in response, its tiny hands squeezed into useless fists. He would probably be cute, if he ever stopped screaming like a scalded cat. Her eyes darted around the room until she saw the pile of clean rags on the counter. Once upon a time, they would have been folded and put away, but now there was no time for such niceties. It was a miracle she’d had time to wash the rags at all. She grabbed one and dipped a corner in the cooling liquid, then held the rag over the baby’s lips. Drops of the cream fell on the baby’s lips and far from soothing him, it only made him howl with new ferocity.
“Goddamnit! What the hell are you doing back there? I said to shut the kid up!”
“I’m trying the best I can,” Cyn shouted back, unmindful of the potential consequences for taking that particular tone.
“What did you just say to me?” The words grew louder with each syllable, and though she couldn’t see his approach, she knew he was getting closer. She shrank back, clutching the baby close to her chest, her heart in her throat.
The one she thought of as Bruiser appeared. He was easily six and a half feet tall and it seemed like he was at least that wide and half that thick. His head was mostly bald except for the ring of bright red curls circling his dome just above the ears and the ZZ-Top-length red beard. That beard was the most disgusting thing Cyn had ever seen. It was always wet from beer and full of crumbs and ashes and God knew what else. Now it was only inches from her face as he loomed over her, his face set in a stony glare.
“I’m doing the best I can,” Cyn repeated, much lower, unable to make eye contact. That didn’t stop him from taking another half step closer. He stood so close she couldn’t take a breath without getting a mouthful of his foul odor, so rank it made her eyes water.
“Well, Adam left me in charge. Give me that baby.”
She reflexively clutched the child closer. “I’m...I’m trying to...trying to feed him. If you’ll just give me some room.” Each word was a struggle, since her entire body was paralyzed with fear and her mouth didn’t want to cooperate and her lips were numb.
“I said hand it over.” He reached for the baby with one hand and used the other to grab her face. She tried to twist away from his grip, but his massive fingers held her in place, distracting her while he easily plucked the child from her arms. He shoved her to the ground and stepped back, his yellow teeth gleaming in his rotten smile. “Now we’ll get some peace and quiet around here.”
Cyn didn’t see where the wolf came from. It was nothing but a blur of white fur and a growl so low Cyn felt it rather than heard it. Bruiser roared and then went silent as he hit the ground, blood coming from the back of his broken neck. Cyn opened her mouth, but the scream was muffled by a sudden hand over her mouth. She stiffened, her heart jumping to her throat with a new rush of fear.
“Shh. It’s okay.”
Aiza. The tension drained from her. For the first time in months, the ache in her stomach eased and the tears gathering in her eyes were from relief. Another woman arrived and scooped the baby out of the dead man’s arms, cradling it to her chest with such tenderness that Cyn knew she must be the mother.
“How many are in the front?” Aiza asked.
“Five, I think. They were playing cards.”
“There are only five people out there?”
“The bar is closed. Now it’s just Adam’s clubhouse.”
Aiza’s mouth set in a firm line and the look in her eye told Cyn it was time to clean house. “Get out of here. Go home, lock the door, and get some sleep. Take a couple days off.”
“They’re dangerous. You should call the cops.”
“The cops are on their way. Everything’s going to be fine as soon as I take care of these assholes.”
“We should get out of here, too,” the woman with the baby said.
“Go on ahead. Stephanie can take you back to the hospital. I’m getting these assholes out of my place.”
The wolf who took out Bruiser had turned into a statuesque, leggy blonde. A naked, leggy blonde. The sort of leggy blonde that Cyn very much liked to see naked, and she felt her face turn a vibrant shade of red as her gaze lingered on the woman.
“You can’t take on all of them by yourself,” Stephanie said.
“I’m not leaving my bar.”
“Then I’ll stay and help.”
“You should take Sera and the baby back to the hospital. I’ve got this under control.”
Cyn could see that her boss had no intention of leaving until all the bikers were dead or gone. “I can drive them to the hospital.”
Some silent communication passed before the three of them before Aiza nodded. “Thank you, Cyn.”
Cyn stole one more glance of Stephanie before nodding and hurried with Sera out the back exit to her car. Once they were on the road with the bar in the rearview mirror, Cyn ventured with a tentative, “So, it’s good to see you again.” The woman had come to the bar more than once after Aiza’s supposed death, searching for more information. “That’s your baby?”
�
�It is.”
“I, uh, did my best to help him. But I think he’s hungry.”
“Thank you. It’s good to see you, too.”
“So... Aiza’s not dead.”
“It’s a long story,” Sera said as she placed the baby at her breast. “And I don’t even know most of it. But…” She gazed down at her son, and even in the dark, Cyn could see her soft smile. “But it feels like a miracle.”
Cyn, who had experienced her own miracle that night, could only nod.
****
There were seven wolves in the front of the bar, not five, but they were all pretty hammered on the free beer and spirits Adam allowed them. Caught up in their poker game and not registering anything except relief from the sudden silence, they didn’t notice Aiza slinking from the back of the bar or Stephanie coming around from the other side. The two struck in unison, instantly taking out two of the gang members with bites behind their necks.
Of the five remaining, three immediately transformed into wolves and two jumped away from the table, eyes wide. Aiza and Stephanie attacked as one, already moving together as though they’d been watching each other’s backs for a lifetime. Stephanie had the skill that Aiza lacked, but her pure vicious strength made up for her lack of practiced reflexes.
And she was more than vicious—she was furious. She was beyond furious. And she wasn’t just fighting for her life; she was fighting for her territory and she was either going to win or she was going to die trying. There were no other options, and Aiza understood that to the very core of her being. And it was that knowledge that fueled each snap of her jaws, each growl and bodily attack.
Still, no matter how hard she fought, she couldn’t bring them down. Soon, she was on the defensive, trying to protect herself from a series of swift attacks. There were three, maybe four on her, and she had no sense of where Stephanie was, if she was hurt or if she fought on. There was a pain in her hind quarter and in her side and the scent of blood was stronger than ever, filling her nostrils and driving her into a frenzy.
